


WILD

by Laeana



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Boys Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Friendship, Getting Together, Gunshot Wounds, Idiots in Love, Jos Verstappen's A+ Parenting, Love Confessions, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Nurses & Nursing, Repressed Memories, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:02:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: Max begins to collect the material scattered around them and when he looks up he is actually looking at the man in front of him for the first time.And it looks like the man in front of him is actually looking at him for the first time too.
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc (implied)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	1. wipe the dust from my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> featuring : Lost In The Wild by WALK THE MOON

The first time they meet, it's chaotic.

Battlefield, far from their respective countries. Soldiers shout orders from right to left, Max concentrates on his own tasks. The equipment here is poor, almost insufficient, and they have to do with what they have on hand. 

He grinds his teeth.

"Lando, hemorrhage."

He presses his hand a little more against the wound, the injured man is already unconscious, he fears having to resuscitate him if it continues like this.

"Lando !"

"Yes I'm coming !" 

With a trembling hand, the youngest passes him a compression bandage and he hurries to apply it around the wound. He has nothing to sew up on hand. 

He glances at his partner who has a puckered mouth. His first real front. You have to condition yourself, you have to overcome the horror and fear that freeze at first glance. Go beyond everything, focus on your job.

"Check his constants, I think he should be fine."

The Brit nods sharply and Max stands up, taking a deep breath. He needs air. He steps out of the tent for a moment, lets the wind blow his hair, the sun scorching. The unknown lands, the cries. 

He wonders what kind of expeditions they came across. Gunshot wounds, amputations, resuscitations … many have suffered. 

These images haunt him, even closed eyelids.

"Maax ! Someone for you." Lando calls him inside.

He grumbles lightly, plunges into his routine. A man stands near the other entrance, a beaming smile on his lips and he can't help but roll his eyes.

"Can you tell me where your injuries are ?"

"Just a regular check. Sent, just in case." The man makes a vague hand gesture.

Max refrains from protesting. With this morning's attack they clearly don't have time for such checks but it's not like it's their role to say anything.

"Sit down."

He begins to collect the material scattered around them and when he looks up he is actually looking at the man in front of him for the first time. 

And it looks like the man in front of him is actually looking at him for the first time too.

Two amber eyes, he's pretty sure to see a golden sheen shining in them, messy curls and that makes him frown because why … a bright smile, tattoos he can already see on his hands. 

"I am surprised to see a male nurse."

First real words between them. The emphasis on the masculine of the word is heard a little too much for his taste. He rolls his eyes.

"I'm surprised to see you still have your curls."

"It's because I made a bet." The military man simply answers, shrugging his shoulders.

"Max, compresses ?" Lando asks in the background and it is from this moment that he feels trouble coming.

"Box at the back."

"There is not any !"

He mentally remakes the trail in his head and the likely locations and delays between supplies and when it all comes together he slams his tongue against his palate.

"Do …" 

October, two years ago, staring into the eyes of this youngster, he may be his age, and such pretty eyes, filled with despair and he has nothing and-

"Do your best."

He does not hear the answer and tries to refocus on his own tasks. Sweaty hands he wipes on his clothes.

"Problem ?" his patient asks and sighs softly.

"Always. I … I like being here, because I like to be useful but it's not … it's never ideal. "

"How long have you been working ?"

"Three … four years maybe."

A long fight. And hard fight. Against his father, against every little thing that stood in his way until he got here.

He jots down in his notebook the measurements taken and everything is perfectly normal with this person, another waste of time. 

"Nothing abnormal, you will be able to return without too much trouble."

"Aren't you listening to my heartbeat ?" The man blinks his eyelids, almost innocently. 

He already feels himself blushing faintly at the idea. The clothes are thick, he would probably have to undress and he is sure that this golden skin is just as thick on his chest.

Max grabs his interlocutor's wrist, traces the base of his thumb to find his pulse. 

"Regular, well hit." he whispers to himself.

He remains like this for a few seconds then releases his grip.

"There you go, your heart is beating very well."

The soldier pouts, almost looking disappointed but he can’t tell if it’s his imagination or not.

"I think I'm done."

"Okay." the other man gets up, smiles again and he suddenly has to remember that, no, he didn't come here for that "Good luck, Maxy !"

He cannot prevent the redness that comes to his cheeks.

* * *

Being back in town is both a relief and a heartbreak. Because Max remembers things that he forgot, or that he wanted to forget. But it’s true that the situation is calmer, less stressful and he has better conditions.

A military hospital always makes him feel like he's not exactly normal. He’s no longer a normal citizen after all.

And he is both terribly near and far from everything he has always fled, feared.

His father, a senior military officer, who hoped for nothing more that his son would follow in his footsteps and what a disappointment it must have been when he realized what his true vocation was and he hears people whispering in his path when they hear his name and-

Well, he used to hear.

It's not the same reputation now. He saves people, he saves them. He has their lives in his hands. He was recognized for that.

He will always remember this charnel house in Syria. Being trapped with three other men; soldiers. He's scared but he's terribly calm. Resigned ? It’s never death that frightens him in itself, it’s not that. There are still gunshots around, two of his fortuitous companions are hit and he has nothing on hand and his mind is already pointing him to possible solutions. He begins his work, the last soldier, the only one not injured, helps him the best and his hands are shaking terribly. But his ? With stunning precision, without a hint of hesitation, though already covered in blood. He can do it, he knows how to do it. He's only been doing this for a year, but it's his vocation, his job. Just one more day. He simply does what he has to do. 

Rock solid calm. Rigorous education which is the cause. He just can't panic, not in those kinds of situations, not when people depend on him.

The nightmares and anxieties and images that torment him at night and sometimes keep him awake are another story.

"Charles." he greets his colleague as soon as he sees him and the latter seems almost relieved for a moment that he is there.

"We have been warned of an urgent entry, it should soon arrive. Heavy halt, they were forced to repatriate."

"How many injured ?"

"Three, but one more seriously than the others. Unconscious, ventilated, gunshot wound in the abdomen. The last time I heard from them they suspected a perforation in the left lung."

He listens to the information that accumulates and takes it into account quickly in his head. It is not a good thing. What team is it ? They must have fallen on a surprise attack, perhaps even an ambush.

"And the other two ?"

"Severe arm fracture as well as gunshot perforation and suspected concussion. The last one has cracked ribs and several burns of varying degrees on his body."

"It's a lot. Did you organize the service ?"

"Yes, the OR is ready to welcome them and I have already distributed the teams. You will be in charge of the concussion, if it does not seem too much to you ?"

Here the workforce is not the most prominent. They are more famous for their efficiency than for their number and the case given to him by the Monegasque seems easy to manage. He can do it.

"It will be fine."

* * *

Their expressions must have been quite funny seeing the emergency arrive.

The first thing Max notices is Lando in the helicopter and he immediately understands which front it is. The one he himself left before coming back here.

There is a blur. The operations that are shouted and the orders given and the wounded who take different paths but that still leaves him time to see who their patients are.

Charles who takes charge of the most serious victim; a young man of their own age, with drawn features, brown hair with a touch of blond. He hears him whisper a "Pierre" and something clicks in his head.

The Pierre Charles hardly ever spoke of but who tended to come out of his lips every night when he'd drunk beyond reason, crying and saying how much he missed him ? The Pierre whose childhood friend Charles was ? The Pierre Charles had once told them the story of a horrendous separation, two different paths (probably a broken heart, although that had never been confessed) and a disappearance because they hadn't seen each other for years and he had no idea where they were ?

That Pierre ?

Finding each other under such circumstances … he can't help but feel pain for his friend who has to put up with such a situation. He wants to tell him to talk to him but suddenly he turns around and faces the one he should be taking care of and-

He finds himself in front of a bright smile. Brown curls that look indomitable. Golden skin. Tattoos and he has a visual of some that he hadn't been able to see before and he absently wonders what they mean-

The stranger from the other time.

* * *

Max is changing the layout of his patient's room. They left him under anesthetic and it's an understandable decision. The bullet that had lodged against the bone had to be removed and the fracture was in a delicate place. Rehabilitation, probably.

"M-Max …?"

He turns his head, surprised. The soldier - Daniel, he found his name when the file was handed to him by hand - flutters his eyes, almost having trouble staying awake.

He finishes his adjustments and responds :

"Yes, idiot."

The military man laughs lightly but his laugh quickly turns into a coughing fit and he comes to offer him a glass of water.

"I will end up believing that you’re my guardian angel !"

"This is only the second time that we meet." He shrugs his shoulders.

"But I remember you … you have beautiful eyes."

Max freezes when he hears these words. A flush crosses his face. It's not the first time someone has been making advances like that to him, but he doesn't understand what Daniel thinks he's getting.

"You're going to stay here for a while." he forces himself to say, in a blank voice, "You need time for your arm."

"It was worth it, though." the soldier whispers and when he turns his head towards him, his eyes are fixed on the outside, an unreadable expression.

He doesn't ask for more details, ignores the hint of curiosity he feels. He takes his vital signs once again, checks his follow-up, fills in a sheet that looks too much like the one they first met, with better results. It's encouraging.

"How are Pierre and Lewis doing ?"

Daniel looks at him this time. Worry, hope. The sun through the window illuminates his features in the most sublime way and he feels himself falter in spite of himself. He is left speechless for a moment by the beauty of the man facing him. He clears his throat:

"This is not information to which I have access."

"I … I see."

A sort of disappointment on the older man's face. His stomach tightens and he hates himself for being so weak in the face of a stranger. A stranger who is probably the same as everyone before him and who will break his heart in the blink of an eye. At the slightest opportunity.

"But I can always try to find out."

He would like to say that the way Daniel's face lights up is worth it. 

His heart is beating a little too hard in his chest. He is terribly afraid of falling in love again.

* * *

Max pushes the bedroom door, dragging a meal tray with him the next day. Not always very appetizing and dosed, the diet to heal in the best possible way. He assumes.

Hearing the door open, Daniel looks up from a book he was immersed in.

"You wear glasses ?" these words escape him.

The soldier smiles softly, closing his book and removing the said.

"From time to time only. When my eyes get tired. "

He sets the tray down next to his bed before sitting down on the ledge when Daniel invites him to do so.

"Pierre has passed the worst, he should live. They wait for him to wake up for a more concrete diagnosis. Lewis is already conscious. It's more a question of recovery. He will have scars from it but" he frowns "but you could probably go see him. Ah, and someone from your squad arrived at the hospital today."

He delivers his speech with downcast eyes, concentrating not to miss any detail. What happened to him, what he managed to hear, what Charles and Lando told him.

The silence in the room surprises him. 

Daniel nods vaguely, a veil of relief visible in his eyes, and where he expects that to be all, the other man grabs his hand and kisses its back, slowly.

"Thank you very much, Max. Really."

Again speechless. He is hot. His brain is struggling to register what just happened and yet he considers himself to be quite a smart person.

"Max ?"

He gets up, takes a deep breath and above all turns his back to the other man. He needs a moment to pull himself together. 

"Try to eat a little, you need it." he mumbles, regardless of whether it's audible or not.

Once again, Max reasons more logically. Harder too. He was never tender with himself, never had the time. There was first his childhood then the expectations of his father, the military career that was to be and his emancipation and-

Getting carried away by his thoughts is not good either. But after everything he's been through, he doesn't want to allow himself to fall apart once again. He can’t.

Daniel's face is crumpled into a puzzled expression, as if darkened.

He can't help but wonder what conclusions are being made in his head. He can't help but wonder what is the goal, the end in all of this. 

"Max, I-"

"I'll come back later."

So easy to use his name. He would like Daniel had never known it, so that his hold on him would be a little less strong.

* * *

Max slips into the room later, much later. The last time he came by, he was assured that Daniel was asleep. He doesn't think he's taking too many risks. 

What risks ?

He doesn't believe in love at first sight. It's not even the first time they've met. And no matter how he felt, it was not justified. He doesn't even know him. He doesn't even know him, that's what should be his reasoning.

The silence suits him. He is used to silence in order to work. His thoughts wander, his fingers are nimble. Used to.

He saw Lando talking to the military man waiting in the hallway. A handsome Spaniard, strong, with sun-tanned skin, and when in the break room he saw Charles, he seemed less anxious than usual. Some good news ?

He makes a mental list of what to do when he gets home. Water the little bonsai tree lying on his balcony, he has laundry to do, probably shopping … ordering food, maybe ?

"Max ?"

He's halfway out of the room. Just halfway. He turns around, mouth puckered.

"I am sorry." this sentence immediately makes him look up in surprise and Daniel seems genuinely mortified. "I probably made you uncomfortable, right ? You'd be absolutely right, I mean, I know I'm a guy and that-"

"What ?" almost an exclamation. As if that was the problem, as if it had ever been the problem. The older one frowns.

"Well, I'm a guy-"

"No, no, no ! That was never the problem, I mean, I'm not … uh …"

"Oh."

Daniel blinks and a smile blooms on his lips, maybe even unbeknownst to him, as if he can't help it. Max watches the scene with a lump in his stomach, but he can't say what he really feels.

"I just don't understand …" he resumes, lowering his eyes, "the interest you can have, that you can find me."

The silence seems to prove him right and he almost trembles to want to get away from this scene, once again.

"Max ... can you come closer ?" then after a little hesitation "Please ?"

He would have every reason in the world to move away. To turn his back on him and leave the room. They don't know each other, he owes him nothing. They are nothing more than a nurse and a patient. 

"Max ?"

The tone of his voice. Something calm, but almost vibrant with uncertainty. No more advanced than him. Daniel takes his hand in his, as soon as he finds himself close enough.

"Hey."

The military man traces circles with his thumb on the back of his hand, just below his knuckles, in a soothing gesture.

"I'm Daniel Ricciardo, I joined the army on a whim and stayed there. I'm from Australia and I would very, very much love to get to know you."

He takes a deep breath.

And he dares, maybe, somewhere, finally.

The ocean stretches out its arms to him, dark and mysterious, he has already drowned there more than once and yet he plunges back into it, more, hoping that a wave higher than the others will not come and take him away.

"I would also love to get to know you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to start to post this fic. Only three chapters, about 3K for each ... It's a project i'm on since september so it was a bit longer than what i actually hoped ! But anyway, I hope you liked this first part.
> 
> tumblr : laeana


	2. I'm chasing the clues you left me

The next time he enters the room, Daniel is not alone. He's not alone and that makes him frown. There is a man in the room, a man he recognizes from seeing him in the hallways. The same squad?

There is a silence that falls as Max enters and he briefly wonders if he always has to like this. To be the one outside of it all, who breaks comfortable atmospheres and attracts too long and cold moments.

"Max." Daniel greets him with a smile, once more, and his expression seems tired, worried ?

"You can keep talking, I can do my job in a corner."

"No." the soldier whose name he does not know shakes his head and stands up "I think that will be enough."

He observes the scene from the outside, uncomfortable. Either way, it's not supposed to concern him.

The Spaniard walks up to him and shakes his hand. Callused palm, hard, which has lived. A strong grip.

"Carlos Sainz Jr, in charge of the three who arrived here. Thanks for taking care of este idiota." Carlos winks at him before leaving the room.

An innuendo ? Nooooo. Perhaps. He sighs.

"Maxy ? Come and sit down !" Daniel still looks so exhausted and although he's good at hiding it, Max can see it by that hazy gaze, his furrowed brow, like maintaining an effort to concentrate, or his paler complexion than usual.

"I have to take care of you before I do anything else." he simply responds and, starting to move around the room, he adds : "Are you at least resting properly ?"

"It would be better with you in my arms …" 

The whisper does not go unnoticed and he raises an eyebrow, taken aback. The older one doesn't even look at him.

It's … 

He stops thinking. For once.

He makes sure not to rush his work before coming back to the injured man side and signaling him to shift slightly.

"Are you sure this bed can take so much weight ?"

The question is like an invitation, a last bulwark, the moment when he can still retreat. Instead, he pushes Daniel a bit further, smirking,

"If you only knew how many things have been done in these beds."

Shock. Very readable and visible on the features of the soldier but he does not really have time to analyze these words more in depth than Max is already lying at his side. They gaze at the ceiling in silence for a few moments.

"I'll end up believing that you don't have any other patients." Daniel whispers and it sounds like a confidence.

"There are others." he admits "But people come and go, we are a smaller center. We almost had specific instructions for you."

"Does that mean I have become your favorite patient ?"

He knows the Aussie is teasing him but it is once again so calm. Light. Strangely simple but that's fine with him.

"What if I said you were ?"

"Fuck, Maxy, I …" Daniel stops, clearly frustrated with his situation and the fact that he can't move as he pleases. "I can't believe you're real."

Their eyes meet - a beautiful amber brown - and the other man must feel his dismay as he laughs slightly, before placing his available hand on his cheek.

"It didn't come out the way I wanted. But there is something about you that makes … I can't help but want to always fall a little more."

It takes him to the heart. Hot. A feeling of familiarity that never quite leaves him. A sense of belonging, perhaps. But in this room where, for a short moment everything seems frozen, he wonders if it’s possible to love someone so much and so quickly.

He begins to envision it and he begins to fear it.

"Tell me about you." He ends up asking in a low voice and Daniel offers him another smile, still beautiful.

Wonders that pass before his eyes, open and closed. When he contemplates the man in front of him, he can see his face light up over stories and moments and memories. And when he closes his eyes he can paint this young boy with crazy curls running through the fields, jumping into a waterfall and watching the sunset from a cliff, alone but strangely serene, patient.

* * *

Max opens an eye. Disoriented. One arm is resting on his stomach. A rather strange position to adopt. As only to make sure he's still there, that he's not gone.

It takes several moments before he fully recognizes his surroundings.

The hospital, the service, the care and Daniel. Oh, Daniel.

The same person lying next to him, calmer than he found him. He smiled briefly, rearranging his curls with his fingertips. His conscience rattles at him afterwards. Ethics. Everything he never did. Fall asleep during one of his turns.

He needs to know the time.

"Max ?" in a low voice once more, Lando stands at the bedroom door, almost undecided, hesitant.

He nods and slowly lets go of Daniel's embrace to slip into the hallway, especially not to wake him up.

"I thought you didn't want to get involved ever since …"

"Lando."

A warning. Not to talk about what he knows nothing about. The youngest one lowers his eyes but does not weaken. He only allows Charles to talk about it and again. An injury he does not want to revive.

They begin to walk, to move away, in relative silence. He knows there's a reason the Briton came looking for him, there's always one.

They are only two years apart, but a gap in terms of experience. It's been a year since Lando was assigned to this hospital.

"I will be leaving soon, they still need me there." 

Max nods absently, he doesn't expect the younger one to stop, shaking.

"How do you bear … all of this ? Is it never too much ?" 

"Lando …"

"It seems so much to me. I feel like I could do so much more ! And there's never enough time, god damn it. It goes by so fast, between our fingers, I should-"

Lando chokes in the middle of his sentence, the sobs getting out of hand, and Max doesn't hesitate any longer before coming to hug him. He knows, he knows it.

"Shh, it's going to be fine, Lando. You do your best, you can't do more. Keep doing all you can and it will be enough. This feeling will not go away, will never go away; you will have to live with it but you are not responsible for it. You save lives, Lando, I don't know if you realize. You save so many, so many lives, people who will be able to come home, to come home thanks to your care, thanks to you."

He whispers all these words in the ear of the youngest who finally lets out everything his nerves were holding. Like a bomb. Too much to bear and he knows that the first moments are difficult, that it sometimes takes longer than others to adapt.

That of all the operations that pass under their hands, the most striking are all too often their failures. 

When the Brit seems to have calmed down, he pulls back and wipes a tear that escapes from his swollen eyes, keeping the support against his cheek, soft, comforting.

"It's a harsh truth, Lando, but it's the truth." he resumes, without flinching, "You can't save everyone and not everyone can be saved."

* * *

Their walk is quite embarrassing after that. They find handkerchiefs and Max changes his blouse because his is wet and it's a little … gross. 

"Besides, where is Charles ?" He then asks when they start walking again, leaving the break room.

"Oh, well … in Pierre’s room I think. Well, that's where I always find him when I'm looking for him."

He frowns. This story doesn’t please him. He doesn’t know if it is a good idea for the two to meet again because it’s true that they hurt each other by leaving each other but what allows to affirm that their reunion would not be less catastrophic ?

"Does he spend all his time by his side ?"

"He's in charge of him isn't he ? He takes his turn and … as soon as he has free time probably waits for him to wake up in his room."

He doesn’t think these assumptions are wrong.

"But it's still-"

"Oh." Lando wide-eyed seeing the time "I have to go take care of room 4. Are you coming ?"

He's going over a mental schedule of everything he had to do today. The patients. The ones he took care of in the morning, the care … then Daniel to finish … he didn't think he missed anything. He didn't have an emergency either …

"Yeah, okay."

Lando collects some tools and they walk to the room. He hesitates a moment before entering and following the younger one who looks more relaxed (is that a facade?) :

"Hi, Lewis ! I'm coming to take your vitals."

"Hi Lando."

He's the only soldier he couldn't really see and he seems to be recovering well from his injuries. So much the better. 

Lewis looks up at him and gives him a curious look. Max clears his throat.

"It's Max. He's taking care of Daniel." Lando cuts off his momentum, he swallows the words that were about to cross his lips.

But as he expects Lewis to be content, his gaze seems even more intense and the words that escape him leave him flabbergasted.

"Max … Jos' son ? Max Verstappen ?"

This time, it’s the youngest nurse who seems curious ; he doesn't know everything. 

He assumes that he can't always run into people who have forgotten or are unaware. He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath.

"Yes. Himself." 

"I haven't heard from you since … how did you end up here ? How is that even …"

Possible ? He could complete this sentence with his eyes closed. He might come up with the following questions without even an effort on his part. Always the same thing. He ended up running out of luck.

"I did my best." He responds coldly "I survived, that's all there is to know."

He leaves the room.

He can't stand it. He managed to get away from so many years of suffering. He does not want to remember it, he does not want it to come back to his face even though he has healed, that he is healing …

It may be cowardly not to want to confront it but he doesn’t want to confront it.

He's not an idiot, he knows his own areas.

He knows what a trauma looks like, he knows he has one. That doesn't mean he doesn't live very well with it though. 

His whole life is the reflection and the consequences of several traumas. And the damage he had been taught to do with his hands turned into healing. He chose another method. He chose his own method to save lives.

He never wants to come back.

He stops dead in his tracks. He traced without even thinking about it. He slipped towards the back, to Daniel's room, convinced that he would know how to find the right words, would know how to comfort him, to get him out of such a stir.

Why ?

How can someone become so important in his life, so quickly ? It’s futile. It's pathetic, it's true.

He rests his hand against the doorframe. The impression of having been in apnea for too long. Painful perhaps, painful. 

"Max ?"

Daniel looks worried. Worried about him. And it has happened several times before, his friends care about him. But it's softer. A fire in his chest.

"Are you okay, Max ?"

In two seconds, the military man is at his side, placing a hand on his cheek. He shouldn’t be that surprised, his patient is injured to his arm not to his leg!, but he doesn’t think he’d saw him standing during all his visits.

Beautiful, repeated over and over in his mind. His heart beats at his temples. He shakes his head.

"Bad memories that came back to me."

"Do you want to tell me ?" whispers the older man gently.

Gaze immersed in one another. Brown against blue. Daniel slips his good arm around his waist and drags him with him to the bed where he makes him sit next to him. He sighs softly but this embrace doesn’t come undone and his head rests on the shoulder of the injured man who doesn’t release.

"I had … let's say, a difficult childhood. Lots of expectations. I almost had … a career in front of me, I was predestined to do something. But the truth is, I've always hated it. I didn’t want it, it was suffocating …"

A kiss placed on the top of his head. Comfort. It encourages him to continue.

"The worst of my years. I don't even know how I managed to escape from it. I don't want to think about it but the thing is, every time I try to forget, there is always someone to bring me back."

"Max …"

"Fuck. I grew up, I will never see him again, why does this have to follow me ? I feel like I never …" he stops in his own phrasing because suddenly it gets too heavy, too real "never will be able to be happy. "

Silence falls on them but it seems to him … it seems to him that Daniel's hand squeezes more. He is pressed a little more against the soldier.

"I can't believe you've been through so much, I'm sorry, Max. You don’t deserve that."

So, so sincere. Max sniffs lightly, dazed, and a small laugh escapes him.

"What's the matter ?" and Daniel's lips seem a little too close to his ear.

"Nothing, I'm just happy with my course. Because it allowed me to meet you. "

These words came out on their own. A certain peace in himself. Torments that subside. Something more, something he needed for so long, that he looked for. Something he finds without any harm today.

"Damn, Max, how can you expect me to …"

He looks up, puzzled, but the Aussie's gaze makes him shut up. Intense, burning, placed on his mouth, like a request, a silent request.

He tilts his face slightly, parting his lips, and Daniel swoops down on him. He wraps his arms around his neck, moaning wildly as their tongues meet. What are they doing ? 

They stop, exchanging hot breaths for each other. Forehead to forehead. Eager to do more but happy with what they have. 

"I would love to give you a hug …"

"Get better first."

"Is it the Max who cares about me saying that or the nurse anxious to do his job ?"

He smiles.

"Maybe a bit of both ?"

* * *

"Slowly, slowly ! Daniel Ricciardo !"

Max grabs the older man's wrist firmly, carefully, knowing full well the pain he must be feeling in his arm.

"I'll give you your scarf. Damn, Dan, this is rehab ! There's no point in straining, you won't heal any faster."

"And how do you know that ?" Daniel answers, furious, frustrated.

"Maybe because, of the two of us, I'm the one with real experience in medicine ?"

This at least has the merit of silencing him outright. He bites his lip ; it is not the first time and certainly not the last that the subject has been brought. He puts the military man’s arm back in place, immobilizes it correctly.

He then sighs and pulls back, running a hand through his hair. Complicated, controversial. He understands why, he understands that it must be an unpleasant situation but what can be wrong ? He wishes he could resolve the situation, really …

"Max …"

He doesn't look up when called, forcing himself to stay focused on the report he's filling out. The balance sheet.

"Did you call me Dan ?"

He rolls his eyes.

"Nah, at all. You must have misheard …"

"That's cute, Maxy. Adorable. I didn't know you were the type to give nicknames but- Ouch."

Nudge in the ribs. It's not funny. The way Daniel can escape any situation with a joke, a well-placed laugh, is beyond him. He doesn't even understand how that is possible and, to be honest, that infuriates him.

"I'm sorry, Max …" the Australian finally sighs "Come here ?"

The older man tries to bring him to him, which is complicated since he only has one arm available, but Max ends up giving way. He lands on Daniel's knees who immediately begins to kiss him languidly.

"Dan-" another kiss "Daniel-" another "Daniel please …"

He is out of breath and the soldier chuckles lightly, barely pulling away from him. 

"What are we ?"

No immediate answers and he's afraid he asked the wrong question. He is afraid of having ruined everything. But the older one did not let go of his smile.

"What do you want us to be ?"

What are his limits ? The limits of what he can ask for, of what he can dream of ? He feels like he has already crossed so many limits when he arrived here that these concepts seem vague to him.

He shed all his principles, all these words. He decided Daniel was worth it, more than messing it up just because of his stubbornness. It's worth it. It's worth more than all those phrases and words engraved in his memory, despite everything, despite how much he wants to get rid of them. His hatred. His despair. A parental figure who has never done him any good.

He is breathing again. These thoughts never do him any good.

"I want us to go out together. I want you to heal properly and to go on a date. I want to be able to celebrate this relationship the way it should, I want to … I feel like I want a little too much with you. It's unstoppable, you make me want to believe it."

"Really ?" almost a tease, Max has trouble understanding the emotions that jostle in the golden and hazel eyes that face him.

"Really." he answers, but he feels completely sincere. With amazing sincerity.

"Perfect then."

Daniel leans down to kiss him again with more sweetness, more tenderness, more love. It's scary, he feels like he's never loved anyone so much.

"I promise you a date, like you've never had, as soon as I get out of there."

"That's only going to make your impatience worse, right ?"

The Aussie laughs. What a lovely sound. If he closes his eyes, he knows he could hear the sound of waves, of the sea in the background. 

Then Daniel takes his hand in his and brings it back to his lips, as when he had thanked him the other time. A gesture that makes him blush again, he can't get used to, ever.

"Perhaps. Maybe you made a commitment to support me by deciding to date me."

* * *

Daniel is on the right way. Max doesn't even have to be positive to see it. He is making progress, more and more progress. He will succeed in recovering his capacities completely. Fortunate.

He's just trying not to think about the aftermath and all that that can mean. The after. Daniel is still a soldier and he is still a medic. They're going to be separated again, can they even handle a relationship like this ?

He doesn't want to think about it, not now. 

Daniel is definitely better off when he starts to use his arm more and more. To need to maintain it less.

He swallows a cup of coffee. His footsteps lead him to his boyfriend's room. Boyfriend … the word leaves him dreamy, his emotions fluctuate. He feels like he's too feverish. He's afraid it won't last, yes.

When he arrives at the door, he comes across a scene he had wanted to avoid. He had delayed it for several weeks, not necessarily always on purpose, but he didn't want that to happen.

He wanted Daniel to continue to see him for who he is, not for what he went through, not for his family.

Lewis is at Daniel's bedside and they are talking. The false calm air that escapes from the room does not fool him. He sees, he hears the low tone, that of confidence, like a shared secret. The drawn features, the wrinkled forehead. His name repeated.

Heart at the edge of the lips.

No, no and no.

It's not fair, it just isn't fair. He has the right to want to talk about it if he wants to talk about it and when he wants to talk about it and to choose the place. 

It's his story and yet he never wanted it. He never wanted it and he managed to escape. He doesn't want to talk about it, he really doesn't want to talk about it.

Max turns on his heels once more.

And he can be called a coward for that.

He assumes he hasn't been seen and slips into the hallway. He meets Lando on the way and quickly calls out to him.

"Can you take care of Daniel, please ?"

The Briton blinks, quite surprised.

"Uh, yes, sure, but I …"

"Thanks, Lando."

He almost lets himself be led. He knows Pierre Gasly's room number. The only one in the squad that he didn't see. Charles is there and he needs to talk to Charles. That's all. 

Pierre is sleeping when Max enters the room. Charles is sitting on the second empty bed in the room. He walks hesitantly but the Monegasque, seeing his look, opens his arms to him without further ado.

They stand silent for a few moments, one against the other, in desperate need of support.

"What happened ?"

"Lewis is talking to Daniel about my father. I hate that Charles, I …"

"Didn't you tell him ?" the youngest immediately rethinks his words "I mean, you're dating, right ? You didn't decide to …"

"Yes ! Maybe … I already told him a part but he didn't know who I was. Who my father was. The last time with Esteban it was too much … I don't want to lose him."

Charles is silent for a moment, pursing his lips, bitter, deep down, he was one of his friends ; he introduced them.

Love at first sight, perhaps. Esteban was kind, a bit mocking, but endearing, beyond criticism. They got to know each other, they had a date and then two. Everything went so well, maybe too well.

Not once have they raised the issue. And anyway, Esteban was not working in militarism. 

Dangerous ground that the question which ventures between them, finally. The Frenchman who does not understand why he doesn’t speak about it and during the revelation ... he was criticized for not wanting to confront his father.

And Esteban left him.

It was too much, it was not enough. He never really knew. His background which still poses a problem for him. Can he really be blamed for wanting to detach himself from the past at this point ? Should he face it ? Will he … 

"It won't be the same." Charles whispers in his ear, one hand on his, "I'm sure Daniel isn't like that."

"I don’t know. For the first time in so long I was … I was happy. I'm afraid of losing it all."

The Monegasque does not respond but kisses the top of his head in a gesture that is not devoid of tenderness. He's happy to be here. To have made it his job. Because it allowed him to meet incredible people.

Charles is one of the constants in his life. The friend he never had. He knows that, probably, Lando will take a great importance in his life but they still know too little for the moment.

Charles and him it's a long story of the two of them against the rest of the world.

"And Pierre ?"

His friend has a moment before he answers, painful, as if saying it makes it too real.

"Memory loss. On several scales. He doesn't remember who I am, he …"

The other nurse's voice breaks at his last words.

"No … how is that possible ?"

"His memory has been damaged. Because of too much blood loss. They don't even know if it's possible that he’ll ever get it back."

He is blown away. He hugs Charles a little tighter against him and kisses his forehead in turn, sorry, so sorry. He wishes he could do something, he wishes he could do something so much.

"I'm sorry, Sharl, I …"

"I know there's nothing we can do about it … at least he's alive. He is alive so nothing is lost, not yet."

They stay several minutes, one against the other. Then there is movement. Pierre begins to wake up and Charles flinches beside him. This is his signal to probably slip away. He stops at the frame, observes for a moment the pain that the Monegasque camouflages with a gentle smile.

"Charles … you are Charles, aren't you ?"

The vision hurts him. He walks out into the hallway, breathes for a moment. Charles doesn't deserve that, why is this happening to him ? He tries to calm down for a moment, leaning against the wall.

It’s not fair.

Life is never fair.

A variant with which they learned to compose every day and Charles watched for the wakening of Pierre for so long and he didn’t even remember him.

He would like to say that they have lived worse. They lived worse in a way but it was less personal, it affected their privacy less. They were two geniuses in their formation and, for lack of manpower, they were sent much earlier than it should have been necessary to the front lines.

They've run things together, some injuries. It was tough, but they made it through. To earn their titles, their places, their diplomas.

Very bad memories.

And the best in the world.


	3. let's get lost in the wild

Max opens his eyes, the light almost blinds him. The entire structure is in shades that are too light. And spending overtime in the hospital is a bit too much like him.

"Max ?"

Called out again, as he always has a knack for taking him by surprise, Daniel stands at the end of the hall, worried, seeming to have rushed here.

"How did you find me ?" and it's a little weak, barely out of his lips, incredulous.

The Aussie walks up to him and he wants to step back but his legs abandon him. Frozen in place, close to everything he wants.

"I don't care about your father, Max." the soldier simply declares, putting a hand on his cheek, as if to implore him not to flee.

He bites his lip to hold back tears.

"Well, no, not really. I was surprised and then not so much. But deep down, that's not what matters. It's you who counts, Max. I love you whether you are a Verstappen or not. I want you to be happy and I want … you have become so important to me in such a short time. I love you I love you I love you."

He blinks and the pearls that have accumulated there roll down his cheeks. Daniel doesn’t hesitate any more and takes him in his arms. 

"I can't believe it, Dan, you …" he tries to breathe, his sobs blocking his throat "I was afraid of losing you."

"I'd be a terrible idiot to let you go for this. I wouldn't forgive myself, I …"

The older man cuts himself off, not finishing his sentence. His eyes are bright and he knows. He knows but he will stay by his side. He knows but he does not abandon him. 

Daniel leans forward and captures his lips and there is such simplicity in the gesture that he never seems to be able to get over it. Each time the same and yet so different. Sensations that explode in him, moments, words, bits of life … 

"I promise you, Max. I swear to you."

* * *

Everything is happening a little too fast. In the final weeks of healing, Daniel's squad is mobilized again. Pierre doesn’t leave of course, they keep him a little longer with them.

He is against the idea of letting his patient go. He knows that the pain is not all gone and that there is still some trauma. The fear of leaning too much on his arm, of using it too much.

"Max …"

Close to leaving. Daniel in front of him. Max bites his lip to curb his emotions, stay professional.

"I know. I know you have to go. I just wish we had a little more time."

"Me too."

The Aussie kisses him gently, several times. His lips then he drifts on his cheek, on his eyelids, on his forehead.

"I still owe you a date, don't I ? I intend to honor this promise, my love, wait for me."

Lips pursed, heart squeezed, he watches his boyfriend go. Far from him. If he could, he would ask for permission and go too. He would rather be by his side than stay in this hospital.

His wishes don't seem to be granted.

* * *

Long months past.

Charles keeps telling him that he is a drama queen, that it only has been two, soon three, but the distance is terrible.

They have not yet had enough time to get to know each other, to see each other. They exchange calls that always seem too short to him.

It wasn't until one morning when Charles came home with a letter in his hands, that he felt like he could breathe for the first time in too long.

As on autopilot.

A request for replacement.

* * *

His eyes open with difficulty. Throbbing pain in the skull. Abstract thought that tells him that he doesn't have time to take care of this, that he has more to do, that he has so much to do. Max forces himself to wake up.

Ringing in his ears, he feels ringing. Around him the buildings are on fire. It all comes back to him suddenly. They were attacked, the shock must have hit him unconscious. There is nothing left of the medical tent, there are injured people all around them. Or dead ? He doesn't want to think about it.

He shakes his head to try to get his ideas back in place, a fog still too present. Complicated. Before the attack, he was in the middle of- he was next to Daniel.

He walks towards the most ruined part, stumbles several times and has to get up and he is not even afraid, he is in a daze, caught up in the situation. The eagerness. Movements all around. He feels blood flowing from his mouth, he has several mild traumas all over his body but he can still move forward and that’s the most important.

"Daniel ?" his voice is hoarse no matter how hard he tries to shout "Daniel ? Daniel ?!"

His eyes scan the entire field for a sign of life.

Then he hears it.

A distinct response and his body immediately rushes towards the voice. He must find him, he must see him again, everything cannot end like this, it is not possible.

Daniel is leaning behind a wall. He seems in bad shape. He sits down next to him immediately.

"What happened to you ? Daniel ?"

"Max …"

The Aussie lets out a long, painful gasp, his lips are tinged with red. He hurries and rips the top of his companion.

"I would have preferred that … that you undress me this way under other auspices." 

And he allows himself to joke in such conditions. Max swallows the panic and the tears that have started to rise up his throat.

"Shut up silly, save your strength."

"You should … you should go take care of others, I …"

He grabs his boyfriend's chin and kisses him hard. A gesture to calm him down. He stops a few inches from her lips, his forehead against hers.

"No way I'm leaving you here, Dan. No way."

"Damn … you can be stubborn …" 

A sore in the abdomen. There is so much noise around them, he is focused on his facts. He has to stop the bleeding, he has to … 

"Daniel ?" he asks when he realizes that the older one has his eyes closed "Daniel ? Daniel, please!" 

Unconsciousness. He tries not to let panic wash over him. As usual. Like any other of his patients, it's not that different … why is it that he has such a hard time externalizing ? 

"Daniel, please …"

He bites his lip to hold back his emotions. A flash of lucidity strikes him more violently than the others. He checks his breathing, shaking, his body shivering violently. It's weak but he's still breathing.

Max looks at the material around him, the little he has managed to collect. He pulls out a survival blanket and wraps it around Daniel. He must not go into hypothermia. He keeps the compression on his abdomen. He doesn't know how long he's going to have to hold out.

He doesn't know how long Daniel can last.

He is afraid of losing him, he is afraid of not being able to do anything and just watch him die in front of his eyes.

He whispers some semblance of a sentence to his companion who does not seem to hear him but he continues, he continues over and over. He doesn't want to give up hope.

Rescue services will arrive. He is sure of it.

* * *

In the helicopter, a scene is played that Max has already seen or not really. This time, it is they who arrive with a victim in critical condition and he is forced to assist with resuscitation during transport.

His heart restarts.

His nerves are in such a state, he has the feeling of being able to collapse at any moment. This was not how their reunion was supposed to be. Each additional second of travel seems endless, too long. 

It's a second less chance of survival for Daniel.

When they land, his legs are shaking, the stretcher is taken away, Charles is downstairs directing operations but as soon as he sees him … 

His nerves give way and he lets him take him in his arms without even struggling. It was hard, it was so hard. He can't believe it happened and he's scared. He's so scared.

"I'm sorry, Max, I …"

He can't even answer, carried away with emotion.

"Everything is going to be fine, they are going to save him. It will be alright."

Charles leads him inside, to the waiting room. There is nothing more to do now. Expect.

And hope all will be well.

* * *

It takes hours before they finally hear back. Night has fallen, Max has not changed, his clothes are still covered with dust and rubble. His hands full of dried blood.

Looking at them, he feels an uneasiness strike him. It is not the blood itself, but rather who it belongs to and an overwhelming urge to wash his hands comes to him.

The only time he gets up from his chair to go to the bathroom. He runs them under water and rubs, rubs again, frantically. 

Then he stops, hands resting on the edge of the sink, breathless, unable to breathe properly, facing himself. Facing the mirror and the truths it carries and he looks pathetic.

They made promises and yet …

Yet how everything can end so quickly. Indisputably fragile. He is afraid of endings, he is afraid of putting an end to their story.

He comes back to his hallway, on the same chair. Only gets up when Charles strides towards him, pursed lips.

"He's alive, he's going to survive."

"Details." 

"Are you sure you can take it ?"

Probably not, but he needs to hear them anyway. He nods, not trusting himself to speak further.

"They had to resuscitate him on the table again. Significant blood loss, more work in the abdomen. They have managed to sew up the wound, but it will be watched. The constants are back to normal, they are waiting for him to wake up."

And it's not even hard to imagine the scene. He played it earlier. His hands on his boyfriend's chest, vigorous thrusts, thirty, then two breaths, trying the best … 

It's not the same. They have equipment and they brought him back. They brought him back. 

"Max." Charles's tone is more authoritative, he immediately raises his head. "Max, you'll come with me. We're leaving the hospital, we're going to my place. You’re going to change and eat a little okay ? Lando is going to stay in the room and wait, we won't miss a thing, right ?"

His gaze hangs desperately on the door, he bites his lip. He doesn't want to leave, he doesn't want to miss Daniel awakening. He desperately needs to talk to him, to see him. To know he's alive.

His friend's grip is firm on his arm as he trains after him, clearly leaving him no other choice.

* * *

When Max comes back to the hospital, it's not until the next day. He might be feeling better this way, he knows full well that he couldn't have visited his boyfriend at his whim at the present time.

His excitement subsided a little. He feels more … present. He feels more like himself. Confused. He can't seem to put a word to his feelings.

Lando greets them in the lobby with a tired smile, surely having been on night shift. He hesitates a moment but understanding it beyond words, the younger nods :

"He should have woken up. Room 3."

He walks there in a sort of daze. He fears what he will find there. He's afraid he won't even find what to say. When he looks at his hands, he still sees the red that tinted them yesterday.

When he pushes the door open, there is no distinct sound. He walks over to the bed. Daniel has his eyes closed, lips damaged, the corner still showing a slight mark. Intubation, surely. His features are drawn.

He sits down next to him, sweeps away the curls that fall on his eyes. Then he takes a deep breath.

Daniel is alive, he is alive. 

Everything is fine. They are far from the front, he managed to save him. The wait seemed so long as he tried to maintain the injury, constantly monitoring vital signs. When he saw the helicopter flying over them, it was such a relief …

Then not so much. Because after that, the Australian's heart stopped for the first time and they had to resuscitate him in mid-flight.

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to chase away those bad memories. They always seem to come back more violently, every time he closes his eyes. Probably because it concerns Daniel.

The contrast. Him, usually so full of life, warm, lying on a table, inert, his eyes closed … if he could reopen his eyes just once …

"M-Max …?"

And like a rehearsal for a popular scene, he smiles, feeling tears come to his eyes. So close to losing him.

"Yeah, idiot."

Daniel wipes his eyes, catching the tears with the tips of his thumbs. 

"I'm sorry, I make you cry all the time, my love."

"If you could stop playing heroes for once …"

The Aussie smirks briefly, kissing his forehead softly, hardly wanting to let go.

"But it worked, didn't it ? You have nothing, you are not hurt."

The dreadfully blurry scene cleared in his head, his boyfriend pushing him just in time. The impact of the explosion.

"But you could have died ! You could have …"

Max takes a shaky breath, not really seeming to take any air.

"You don't understand, Dan. We had to resuscitate you twice. I had to do it once with my own hands, I don't want … I had your blood on my hands. I was trying to keep you alive but it never seemed like enough and-"

His voice cracks over the last words. Two strong arms close around him. A few sobs escape his lips. His nerves really let go, for the first time, so different from yesterday, as he finds the one he loves so much, too.

"I'm sorry, Max. I'm sorry I made you do this, but I still prefer it a thousand times. I prefer that a thousand times rather than you being the injured one. I refuse to let this happen to you, I refuse to lose you."

"And that legitimizes the fact that I lose you, me ? It’s unfair."

This statement hurts him. They don’t do the same job but they do jobs that are too close to each other. On an approached ground. It isn’t something without risks, they face dangers, the situation has proved it to them, but he doesn’t want to be protected. He doesn't want to be the price to pay.

"You will learn that many times, Maxy, life is unfair." Daniel laughs softly and he missed that sound. He wants to kiss him as much as he wants to hit him.

"You are an idiot, Dan."

"But you love me anyway."

He rolls his eyes, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend. Licking that damaged corner of his lips, that mark that proves he came back. Daniel takes the opportunity to bring him a little closer, keep him close to him, even after their kiss is over and Max stays at a certain distance, careful of his injury.

"With regret." he responds, pulling an offended laugh from his Australian.

* * *

Dan  
  
downstairs in fifteen minutes ?  
  


Max smiles when he receives the message. Halfway through a crisis over choosing what to wear tonight, as Daniel finally delivers on his promise to take him on a date.

Dan  
  
don't be late  
  
never, my love ❤️  
  


He hesitates to ask Charles for advice, but he's sure he would laugh at him. He really wants to grab a hat, but his boyfriend has threatened to burn them all if he even dares to come back with one of them to their date.

Nevermind.

He grabs the black jeans he had chosen in the first place, he knows them to be tight, and takes a white shirt to make the pair. His fingers tremble as he tackles the last pimples. It doesn't look like him.

Daniel is waiting for him at the bottom of his building and his nervousness disappears when he sees him. His brain constantly reminds him that he is his boyfriend, that he has nothing to fear, and then the Aussie kisses him and he is much better.

"Nervous ?" asks his boyfriend, smiling.

"Less since you've been here." he confesses without great difficulty and he can see his smile widen.

"Perfect then, perfect."

The car ride is relaxed. Daniel sings to the rhythms of passing songs, he thinks of many questions he would like to ask him. From his meeting with Lewis and Pierre, to the bet he had mentioned.

They still have so much to discover about each other.

The restaurant chosen is upscale, a little discreet but chic. They are taken to a table away from the others as soon as the oldest man announces his reservation.

They spend a ridiculously pleasant evening, making fun of the menu, telling each other about their lives and oh how cliché it is, but Max feels himself falling a little more in love with each word. Daniel is amazing.

They laugh a little too much, speak loudly, sometimes so much that the other diners glare at them and they have to lower their tone, almost ashamed, although the idea of shame seems to pass over their heads as they are together.

They come out of the restaurant with maybe one too many drinks for Max, but Daniel's grip is secure on his hand, he doesn't stumble once. More songs he knows on the ride home, they sing together and it's out of tune, terribly off-keys.

But anyway, no one is there to see or hear them.

The exit from the car, the hesitation, the eagerness in a kiss, the shy asking, urging to come and visit his apartment, climb the stairs, almost fall at every landing for a stolen kiss.

Then end up on the sofa, end up against each other, curled up, with another drink, maybe a little too drunk, and above all in love, so in love.

It's small moments, it's terribly fragile moments that could end too quickly. Their story like that of so many others.

Max holds Daniel a little stronger against him, not letting go of these sensations, these feelings. He doesn't want to forget them, like an immortal promise, which they cannot undo. Who will survive them.

They are running against time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooo ... it's the end. Even though I could say more about it, probably write more, not about maxiel of course, but about side relationships. I was contrasted, a bit relieved of ending the story - the end came pretty fast! I struggled with the middle of the story ...  
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this story, even only a bit :)


End file.
